In sickness and in health
by Mirage88
Summary: When he was young England looked after him. Now that England has fallen ill it's his turn to look after him.


"Hey England you in!" America didn't even wait for an answer as he entered England's home. He glanced around waiting for England to come out and start shouting at him for just letting himself in.

He didn't come out to greet America however. _He must be in, the lights are on, maybe he didn't hear me._ He continued to call out for England while searching the house.

As he passed the kitchen he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and noticed there was various fruits scattered over the floor.

"England?" He stepped into the kitchen only to let out a gasp. Only a few feet away from him was England sprawled out on the ground face down. A shopping bag was near him explaining the scattered fruit.

"Whoa! England, hey what's wrong!" He rushed over to England and half lifted him, shaking him as he did so. England's face was pale but he was still breathing, although his breath was very laboured.

England started to stir slightly and slowly began to open his eyes. He turned his head to look up at America and squinted.

"America?" He groaned.

"What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" America sounded slightly frantic.

"I'm-" England closed his eyes again. "I'm hungry." He finished lamely.

America blinked a few times then burst out with his infectious laughter.

"Were you so busy you forgot to eat? Or have you finally realised your foods terrible?" At this England shot up, his fatigue seemingly forgotten.

"My food is not terrible! You've damaged your own sense of taste with years of junk food that you can no longer appreciate authentic home cooked food."

America rolled his eyes. No matter what was wrong with England, as soon as he was insulted he would retaliate with much vigour.

"If you say so, c'mon let me make you something for a change." England raised a eyebrow suspiciously, it was very rare America was so accommodating. Usually he would continue laughing at him and insult him some more. But now he was letting him lean on him for support leading him to his dining room and sitting him down before patting him patronizingly on the head before sauntering off to the kitchen to prepare some food.

England scowled while absentmindedly rubbing the area of his head where America did. Lately he hadn't been feeling quite himself, he suspected he was coming down with a cold, so he brought some vegetables wanting to make some vegetable soup, hoping the nutrients would perk him up a bit, but as he got home he began to feel dizzy and just passed out. The next thing he knew America was holding him shaking him awake. He couldn't believe America saw him at such a weak moment. It was so frustrating!

"Here you go! A hamburger dinner made with love!" England was startled as a plate was practically thrown in front of him. He stared at the huge hamburger that was placed before him. _Of course that idiot would make a burger, but looked at the size of it! Its like he used half a cow!_

"Well gonna eat?" America prodded.

"I should have known you would give me this. But I suppose I should thank you." He said somewhat stiffly. America smiled at this, it was rare nowadays that England thanked him for anything. He just sat there watching England eat with an almost fond expression on his face. It took awhile for England to notice. When he finally did his face went slightly red and he shot a venomous glare back.

"Do you have to stare at me like that? Its very distracting!" America cocked his head to the side slightly a bemused expression on his face.

"But I like looking at you." At this England went an even darker shade of red.

"W-what are you talking about/ Don't say stupid things….idiot." He finished the rest of his meal of before standing up abruptly. "I'm going to bed!" He exclaimed loudly. He practically ran to his room and slammed the door leaving an amused looking America downstairs.

"He can be so cute sometimes."

A week passed and America shown no signs of leaving, much to England's annoyance. Unfortunately his fever took a turn for the worse and he couldn't even find the strength to protest much.

America sat on the edge of England's bed holding a thermometer up to the light.

"Your fever hasn't gone down at all, I think its even gone up." He muttered

"What does it say now?" America turned to England a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Lets just say you should be medically dead." England snorted at this and turned his back on America.

"Shut up. Fool." He huddled up in his blankets. "I'm tired, so why don't you just leave me to get some rest?

America sighed and stood up heading to the door. He turned back to England before leaving.

"Ill be in the next room just call me if you need anything. Don't worry with me here you'll get better in no time, because I'm awesome." He waited for England to throw a scathing reply back, but he remained silent. Only shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

America sighed and closed the door behind him, leaning onto it for support. Hell he was worried, he was a hero, and yet he couldn't do anything. The doctor came round the day before and said it was just the flu. Quite useless really, he could have figured that out, he wanted a cure.

The next day America cooked some chicken noodle soup. He heard somewhere it was meant to be good for ill people. He helped England sit up and watched him eat. His hands kept shaking and he kept spilling his soup because of it. America held his hand to help keep it steady. England narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I can feed myself, I'm not an infant you know." He said somewhat scathingly. America let out an irritated sigh.

"I know that, but for just this once let me help you." England grumbled something that sounded like _bloody git_ under his breath but let America guide the spoon to his mouth nonetheless.

The bowl wasn't even half empty before England put the spoon down.

"That's enough. Im full."

"Full? But you haven't even eaten half of it! C'mon if you want to get better you have to eat some more."

"I said im-" England never finished his sentence as he began to cough rather violently. His legs jolted as if he received an electric shock causing the bowel of soup to fall onto the floor spilling the rest of its contents.

"England!" America held him close "Try and take a deep breath." His coughing fit eventually subsided, but his breathing was wheezy. America laid him down and began to clean up the mess. He went downstairs to throw the dirty cloths in the washing machine when he noticed a red mark on the arm of his jacket. He examined it closer and his eyes widened when he noticed it was blood.

_I-Is it England's blood? From when he was coughing?_

Another week passed and England became even worse. He slept through most of the day and barely ate.

America was currently sitting in the living room, slumped forward head in his arms. He called the doctor earlier and he was currently examining England. He would most likely be taken to hospital and then he'll get better. He didn't have much faith in the British medical system but England was always praising it.

He heard footsteps coming downstairs and stood up abruptly. The doctor walked in the room wearing a grim expression.

"He's refusing hospital treatment." Was all he said. America felt as if his stomach was churning.

"Why? Make him go, its obvious he's really ill, why cant you do anything!" The doctor didn't even seem taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"Im afraid we cannot force someone to be hospitalised against their will. The only thing I can suggest now is to make sure he keeps taking his medicine." America's head hung low, his fists were clenched tightly as he shook slightly.

"That, that idiot!" He rushed from the room not caring how he must have looked to the doctor. As he ran up the stairs he felt tears stinging his eyes.

_Why? Why is he always like that, that stubborn ass. _

He slammed the door open to England's room marching over to his bedside. England was sat leaning against the headboard seemingly lost in thought, he looked so pale and weak, his usually bright jade coloured eyes seemed dim. He turned to face America a slightly shocked expression on his face.

"Why! Why did you refuse to go to the hospital!" He was yelling but he didn't care. He knelt on the bed next to England, his face only inches away from the other. England stared at him for a moment, an almost sad expression on his face before turning his face away.

"There's no point." he finally uttered.

"No point? What do you mean there's no point!" America yelled as he grabbed the front of England's nightshirt, bringing him closer.

"Because there's nothing that can help me now." He slowly turned his head to face America again. "Im." He seemed to have difficulty saying the next words. "Going to die."

America felt as if his heart stopped for a second. He couldn't hide the look of pure shock on his face. However it slowly turned to a pained scowl.

"Your going to die? What the hell are you on about? Are you saying everything I've done to help you has been pointless-" He cut off mid rant when he realised he was crying. He took a gulp of air and stood up turning his back on England and wiping his eyes on his bomber jacket.

"America…."

_Why? Why do I have to cry in front of him? I promised myself long ago that I would be strong. Now im crying in front of the person I don't want to cry in front of the most._

He suddenly felt his hand being held. He turned to England and was surprised to see him smiling.

"Don't cry. You promised you'd be strong right? You don't need me anymore, you havn't for a long time now." America gritted his teeth at these words.

"England you idiot!" He suddenly lunged forward. England expected him to punch him, instead he was shocked when Americas lips were pressed against his own. He gasped and America used that opportunity to slip his tongue into England's mouth. England could only sit there in shock, he didn't participate nor did he push America away.

After what seem like hours America pulled away panting.

"Iv'e always needed you, but I didn't want to stay as your brother, I wanted to be much more. But I knew you would never see me like that if I remained your brother. I-iv'e always wanted to be with you."

England just stared at America his expression one of surprise. America looked back into his eyes for a moment before dropping his head in defeat.

"Just forget about it, dammit." He gasped as he felt a pair of hands cup his face gently. He looked back up at England who stared back at him his eyes brimming with tears.

"You're the idiot America. A stupid spoilt brat." He ended these harsh words with a kiss. This time both of them participating.

England closed his eyes tightly. His chest felt as if someone was squeezing it tightly, but he never stopped. America eventually deepened the kiss as England wrapped his arms around the others shoulders, pulling him down and holding him so close it was as if they were one. The sunset outside burned with a blood red glow as the setting sun cast its final shimmering golden rays on the two.

* * *

America knelt in front a beautifully decorated grave a look of defeat on his face. He placed a bouquet of lilies down. And bowed his head.

"England, im doing fine y'know. I hope your still watching me, ill show you how strong I am. Just wait and see. Im strong because you were always there for me." He breathed deeply. "England."

He was about to stand up when the back of his head was struck by a strong blow. He nearly fell over from the force before turning around rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey that hurt, that was disrespectful doing that in front of a grave!"

"Stop talking about me as if im dead then!" An irate England answered. His arms were folded and he glared down at America a fiery expression on his face.

"Do you even know whose grave this is?" America shook his head.

"Nope just thought id pay my respects." he replied. England groaned and ran his hand through his hair.

"Honestly I don't know why we even came here, your always dragging me to weird places. Lets just go, we have a meeting to go to." America stood up looking up at the sky, watching two blackbirds fly overhead and into the distance.

"You know you were really being a hypochondriac back then." He said teasingly.

"No I wasn't I was really sick!" England shot back. America just laughed in response. Although things looked dire for England he slowly began to recover. In less than a month he was back to normal, and his old personality soon returned.

The only thing that was different was England's and America's relationship. Although it seemed to be the same as always there was some things very different between them. Even the other nations could tell something was different.

"Hey wanna walk into the meeting holding hands? I bet the others will freak out!" England turned an impossible shade of red.

"Idiot America."

A/N: Well this idea just popped into my head one day, not much I can really say about it. But I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it, cause I had fun writing it. :D


End file.
